


Call Me Honey

by Friedom



Category: Naruto
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collars, Coming Untouched, Dom!Tobirama, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Healthy BDSM practices are heavily implied, Light Bondage, M/M, Master/Pet, More like Porn with 8k backstory, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Sub!Madara, implied at least - Freeform, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friedom/pseuds/Friedom
Summary: Uchiha Madara: Family-oriented, cut-throat, cold disposition but explosive temper. All of those are things Tobirama has heard said about the man at the opposite end of the table.What nobody mentioned is that he was beautiful.Or, Madara is a closet Sub with a terrible crush on Tobirama, who represents a company he is dealing with. Like any reasonable adult, he addresses this by glaring at him every time they meet.





	Call Me Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).



> So I blame this entirely on a discord group chat I joined not too long ago, which is full of terrible enablers. Thus my first fanfic published under this pseud and my first Naruto fic on ao3 is kinky Madatobi porn, because what else could it possibly be.  
> I debated whether to dedicate this to any of my buddies on there, but honestly I think our Queen and (adoptive) Mother Kat deserves this more simply for getting all of us into this ship. All hail the Ruler of Rare Pair Hell.  
> Title from "Honey" by TRACE.

When the video starts playing, Madara is already half-hard.

He feels a little like a naughty teenager, sneaking around and watching porn on his phone in the darkness. He _is_ sneaking around, for all intends and purposes. Nobody can know of this or he will lose their respect, and while he trusts his brother, he does not want to imagine how he might react. He know his responsibility to his family and their business that he leads, and this is the kind of thing that could ruin them in the right hands. Not to mention that it is just a really embarrassing thing to be caught in the act of.

Nobody ever needs to know how much he likes the idea of someone ordering him around.

Nobody can ever find out how he craves to have someone pet his head and praise him.

And nobody should ever discover that he wants to be owned, to be dominated and collared and tied to the bed blindfolded, robbed of his freedom but given so much more.

He is the widely respected head of an international steel and iron firm, though they also dapple in other ores and mineral resources. He cannot indulge in these childish fantasies. It is something he realised almost at the same time as he realised he had them in the first place.

He was 15 when he first stumbled across some amateur porn of a collared boy being fucked hard by a strong man. He had been so envious of him, but he immediately knew he could never be like that boy, no matter his desires.

Fuck if he doesn’t want it, though.

His eyes are glazed over, not even really watching the screen anymore, rather listening to the moans and the praises the man in it is murmuring in his partner’s ear as he touches himself. He can almost imagine that he is saying it to Madara instead.

God, he really wishes he was, that somebody was here with him to tell him he’s a good boy and pet him and fuck him roughly.

It does not take long until he is coming. He has been desperate for this all day while he had to sit through long hours of meetings and paperwork. Some days acting strong and dominant comes easy, if not quite natuaral. Others, all he wants to do is curl up and be pampered.

This one was an exceptionally bad day in a series of them, so he even put on his collar tonight to comfort himself.

After he catches his breath and cleans up a little, he turns off the light and curls up under his blanket. He is still wearing the collar he bought when he was 18, but he does not want to take it off quite yet.

Curiosity had driven him into the first and only sex shop he ever visited. Not long after, his rise through the ranks had started. He has only become more prominent in the business scene and thus does not dare to indulge further, alway scared of being caught.

The thick braid he wramgled his hair into for sleep tickles his back. He shifts again and then quiets his mind, hoping to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Tomorrow there will be a meeting for a cooperation with the Senju Family’s heavy machinery production firm. It is important, could be the next big step in the Uchiha Corp.’s path of success, and he needs to be well rested.

He falls asleep hoping that the representative they will send will not be too big of an asshole.

 

* * *

 

Madara is so fucked.

He cannot even express how damned he feels right now. Still, he is not even close to being as fucked as he wishes he was right now.

Tobirama Senju is somehow everything he has ever desired in those dark hours on his own. It is not so much his face or his body, though those are very impressive as well and Madara has caught himself staring at that handsome face and that enviable physique twice already in the quarter of an hour since this meeting started.

No, it is the man’s presence that has truly captured his interest. He is commanding, with an air of coolness that is just shy of unkind. His subordinates instinctively defer to him. If it was not so clear that they truly respect him he would be worried, but there is no fear in their eyes, just admiration and the drive to please.

Madara gets it, he does. He, too, would willingly crawl through dirt to be praised by this man.

Tobirama's gaze on him is razor sharp and Madara has to struggle not to let his act be cut apart by it. Madara bristles, immediately settling into a defensive glare. This is dangerous, and he cannot let himself waver. There is too much on the line for him to crumble here.

All the qualities that Madara has learned to affect from a young age seem to come naturally to Tobirama, and all Madara wants to do is drop to his knees and offer to service him. The attraction is so all encompassing that it feels like being shot through the heart. He wants to lick the markings on pale cheeks and touch his white hair and see the look in his eyes as Madara sucks his cock.

Madara wants Tobirama to own him, would be willing to give his everything just for the chance to be praised by that silky voice, to have those slender, graceful fingers in his hair, to make him proud. He wants to have sex with him but also so much more, and it scares him. As much as his business persona is largely an act, it is well practiced. The truth has never been this close to surfacing, the wall of arrogant disinterest he built in front of his delicate heart has never wobbled this much.

Even when he is with family, with his brother, he does not show vulnerability in the way he wants to right now. And with a man he just met, as well.

While Madara is stunned and panicking, his brain is running the meeting on autopilot. He greets Tobirama and the associates he brought in a curt, polite but cold fashion. He does the introducing and the seating and opened the talks with a few words. Every time his eyes meet Tobirama's he hides his chaotic emotions behind a glare.

Izuna then takes the word then as he is tasked with leading the interactions. His little brother is always the first choice for these kinds of things as the generally more social of them. Soon, the discussion is in full swing and Madara is dimly aware of what is being said, but most of his brainpower is currently dedicated to flashing ‘ABORT’ in his mind’s eye over and over again, complete with sirens.

Tobirama opens his mouth to add to something and Madara’s scattered focus zooms in on him, jarring him back into reality.

It takes a few minutes after he already stopped speaking again for him to notice that he is still glaring at the man’s mouth. In fact, it takes Izuna nudging him surreptitiously with his foot to get him to finally start following the conversation going on around him.

He shares a glance with his little brother who is frowning at him, unspoken questions clear in his eyes, but Madara dismisses him with a shake of his head. Izuna will not give up that easily, he knows. It is likely that he will be accosted and interrogated thoroughly later. Still, for now he is safe, and as Izuna turns back with a last questioning glance he sighs soundlessly and resolves to find some sort of excuse.

Madara tries to pull himself together and focus, but for a second he could swear he sees Tobirama watching his and his brother’s interaction warily. Then he blinks and looks away from them and Madara is left to make sense of the careful non-expression he has on his face.

Resolving to not get stuck staring at that handsome face on the opposite side of the table again, he turns to one of his own associates who is currently giving an overview over their human ressources. Maybe if he avoids looking at the man he will get through this meeting peacefully.

Next time, and it is becoming all too clear that this will not be the last meeting of this cooperation, he will be better prepared to deal with Tobirama. He will shore up his defences and he will look him in the eyes and he will control his emotions.

No matter that he doesn’t want to, no matter how he craves rough touch and kind treatment from the man, he has a pride to uphold and he will, or god so help him, uphold it. Thus steeled in his decision to weather this storm, as well, he still does not look directly at Tobirama for the rest of the meeting. There is only so much that Madara can handle in one day and that quota had already been met when Tobirama walked in the room and stole his breath away. Today he will let himself be a coward, but next time he will do better, he swears.

 

* * *

 

Uchiha Madara: Family-oriented, cut-throat, cold disposition but explosive temper. All of those are things Tobirama has heard said about the man at the opposite end of the table.

What nobody mentioned was that he is beautiful, in a way only wild animals could be. He has an air about him that belies the careful, uneffable grace he portrays.

It is just begging to be tamed.

Tobirama is fascinated by his hair, positively a mane at this point, and the contrast between pale skin and dark hair and eyes that make him as interesting to look at as any painting. He already has faint lines in his face, stress and frown lines around his eyes that Tobirama wanted to smooth out.

Madara reminds him of a wild feline. He should be kept in luxury, spoiled and cared for in the way one would an expensive pet. Not to mention how pretty he would look on his knees.

He also seems to absolutely loathe Tobirama already. They have barely even interacted and yet on two separate occasions has he caught the other man glaring in his direction. When he spoke up, the dark eyes snapped to him instantly and stayed on him for way longer than reasonably can be explained with interest in what he had to say.

Tobirama is not stupid, he knows that his commanding air can grate on people who would like to believe themselves the strongest force in a room. And while Madara does not seem like one of the macho alpha types, he still seems to begrudge Tobirama his well earned respect.

Pity, really. It has been a long time since Tobirama desired somebody this way and will likely take just as long until he finds another subject this compelling. Still, Madara would clearly not enjoy submitting to him and that would make any attempts misplaced at best. He knows his boundaries well, and making inappropriate advances on unwilling men, at work no less, is one of them.

The meeting ends in plans to meet again and flesh things out further and Tobirama resigns himself to coming back and suffering his desires further every time he sees Madara. At least he is sure that nobody will know but him. His poker face has been excellent since his teenage days. It will not fail him now, no matter how many dirty thoughts he may have in the other's direction.

 

* * *

 

 

Two months. It has been two months since that first meeting and Madara is still suffering just as much as he was back then.

They are now in the final meeting before they sign the cooperation contract and he has seen Tobirama and his stupid face and stupid eyes and stupid everything at least once a week for the last two months now.

Every time they meet he struggles to hold onto control. He is aware that he has been extra bristly for these meetings, that he was short tempered and snappy, especially when dealing with Tobirama directly. It is a small miracle this cooperation went through at all with how bad his behaviour has been.

The only reason it did go over was Izuna, smoothing over all turmoil that gathered with quick efficiency. That, and the fact that Tobirama was almost as bad as Madara.

He does not have his temper or his short fuse, but he has been cold and sharp throughout all the talks, a cutting remark ready for every time Madara snaps something rude.

It has been driving Madara crazy, if he is honest. He has only gotten more desperate as time went on, his nightly sessions of indulgence lengthening in time. They also gained a face for his imaginings, as much as he tries not to acknowledge that.

He tried to stop imagining Tobirama as the one holding him down, to stop silently mouthing his name and picturing what expression he might make while Madara chokes on his cock, but it was a lost cause from the beginning on, really.

If he is honest, he is looking forward to not seeing the man as regularly anymore with just as much gladness as trepidation. What if he does not get over him? Will he lie awake every night, imagining the company of a man who will likely have forgotten about him in no time at all?

He feels pathetic whenever he thinks like that, though, so he pushes the thought away every time. This is just a stupid infatuation he has gotten himself caught up in, and if anybody will have forgotten about it soon it will be Madara himself. At least, that is what he likes to tell himself.

Izuna is not at this last meeting and he made Madara promise to behave himself before he left for his business trip, already flitting to the next possible opportunity for their company.

His brother is cross with him because he still has not gotten a chance to ask his questions about Madara’s strange moods lately. That he could avoid him this long can be entirely attributed to the busy two months they have both had, but Madara still feels a little vindictive.

He owes nobody an explanation. He is the head of the company, not Izuna. But that is childish and he feels a little ashamed of those thoughts and decides that he will find a way to explain himself when his brother returns.

Until then he will enjoy his freedom to do whatever he wants around their flat. He loves his brother, but sometimes having his living space to himself is more important than keeping him around at all times.

Maybe he will get to wear his collar around the house. Madara can’t wait to sign this stupid contract and go home.

 

* * *

 

The contract is signed and hands are shaken and then somebody offers to get drinks to celebrate and Tobirama sort of does not want to come but he is representative and wants to keep up a good relationship with the Uchiha Executive team. He does not expect him to but Madara acquiesces as well and then they are off to the closest bar.

A few hours later and Tobirama is seriously wishing he just went home. He himself is only mildly tipsy, having paced himself well and spent more time sipping water than liquor. Everybody else, though, but for one other guy from his team, are falling down drunk and he is glad that tomorrow is the first day of the weekend because they will all be nursing a spectacular hangover.

Before that can come to pass, though, they will need to get them home somehow. The other guy who is still in control of himself is strong and pragmatic and they start carrying people outside and shoving them in cabs, tipping the drivers to pay for the inconvenience.

When Tobirama returns inside again to check who is left he finds only Madara left in the room they had been put in for the celebration. The other is languid and relaxed and halfway asleep, leaning against the wall of the traditional Japanese style drinking house. He approaches the man with quick strides and leans down to his level.

“Come on, up you go,” he encourages while reaching out to grab him under the arms and heave him to his feet. Madara is in no way a small or light man, no matter how lean he appears in his suits. His shirt is rumpled now, and he must have opened some of the buttons at the top at some point in the evening. Tobirama catches a glimpse of a pale collarbone as he tugs at him and quickly turns his face to the side.

He finally gets Madara standing and the other immediately stumbles over his own feet, disoriented, and Tobirama pulls him close to keep him steady with an arm around his shoulders.

“Be good now, I’ll get you home, ok?” he keeps mumbling encouragement while he starts the slow trek out of the bar and down to the curb. He leaves Madara briefly to get their coats, propping him against a wall and telling him firmly to stay put. He returns and wrestles the man into his suit jacket the way one would a toddler, by holding it out and telling him to put his arms through seperately.

Madara complies and does not complain at all during all this which Tobirama fully attributes to the alcohol in his system. He will probably be embarrassed and angry about this tomorrow if he remembers it. Tobirama cannot say he cares much.

Instead he pulls the man back off the wall and leads him out of the door into the mild night. Madara just hums and leans most of his weight on Tobirama. He tries not to think about how close they are right now, how he is practically hugging the man to his side to steer his unsure steps in the right direction.

Madara mumbles something that Tobirama interprets as “No need for a cab, I live close,” even if it comes out slurred and hard to parse. Sighing, he turns to his companions to ask for the way instead and his breath catches in his throat.

Madara's head has fallen against his shoulder and that cannot possibly be comfortable as he only has about an inch on the man. That does not, however, stop his mind from informing him that he can practically count the dark eyelashes on his half-closed eyes.

He stops and stares at pale skin framed by wild, black hair that is almost glowing in the light of the street lanterns.

It takes Madara a few seconds to realise they have stopped moving, and he raises his head and turns to look at back at him with hazy, confused eyes.

He cocks his head lazily and Tobirama has a moment where all he can think is “cute.” It is ridiculous, Madara is a grown man, he is almost as tall as him and the owner of his family’s firm. He inspires respect in his workers and is fair no matter his short temper. There is no reason for Tobirama to find him as adorable as he does in that moment, but all he wants to do is hug him to his chest and protect him from the world.

Ridiculous. Tobirama must me more drunk than he thought.

He shakes his head a little, trying to knock his brain cells back into action. Madara is starting to look a little more lucid thanks to the fresh air outside. After another moment of feeling increasingly awkward, Tobirama clears his throat and asks, “Where to then?”

Madara turns his head away and nods in the direction of an intersection down the road but does not move, rooted to the spot and still fluish against Tobirama.

“Well come on then,” he starts pulling him along again, staring ahead even as Madara’s head falls to the side to rest against his shoulder again.

They make it to the expensive flat he shares with his brother in under 10 minutes, nothing short of a miracle considering the shambling pace they are moving at, but it feels much longer to Tobirama. He is hyperaware of Madara’s everything, every shift of the warm body against his.

The other seems to have spaced back out again, letting himself be steered but not much else. Getting into the apartment building is a bit of a struggle as Tobirama is not familiar with the system, which requires residents to identify themselves with sensors in their keys before entering.

It takes a few tries to get Madara’s attention on him and he seems to have trouble with the higher brain functions required to put the little plastic disc on the keyring under the scanner. Tobirama sighs holds out his hand, demanding the other ‘Just give it to me.’ He complies willingly, dropping it in his grip and going back to focussing on staying upright.

His gaze gets caught on something in the middle distance. Jeez, the guy is really drunk.

Tobirama manhandles him over the doorstep and then is faced with a whole new challenge: Madara lives on the second floor. There is no elevator, just a broad flight of stairs.

It takes a lot of encouragement and careful instructions that Madara follows with a intense frown on his face to wrangle the man upstairs. When they finally arrive at the right landing he slumps against Tobirama again immediately and at this point he is not sure if he really needs it or just likes to lean against him.

No matter, at this point all he wants is to get him situated inside and then leave. He opens the door with little difficulty, after all he is not drunk as a loon, and sets Madara down on a bench to take off his shoes.

Then he waits for him to finish with that because he feels the guy might fall asleep right then and there and then he would feel awful when he inevitably catches a cold if he leaves him there. Instead he makes sure that the shoes really do come off, wrangles off the suit jacket as well since he is at it already and then corrals him down the hall, where he finds the living room.

Madara immediately sets his sight on the couch and flops down on it in an undignified heap. As Tobirama considers him, he burrows into the soft cushion and settles in to sleep. Tired and tipsy and trying to ignore Madara’s stupidly pretty face, Tobirama runs his hands over his own. He then tugs a blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch over the still form on it, because he is a mother hen at heart, as Itama likes to tell him.

Mind still on his little brothers, he thoughtlessly runs his hand through a part of Madara's hair that the man is not practically using as a pillow. Then, realising he is spacing out, he mumbles ‘sleep tight,’ and leaves.

Only when he is settling in his own bed in a different part of town does Tobirama have a moment of ‘wait what the hell did I just do’ but then he falls asleep, too.

After the door of the flat falls closed behind Tobirama, Madara raises a hand to where the other had touched his hair, half asleep and intoxicated, and smiles happily.

 

* * *

 

 

Madara awakens to one of the most unpleasant noises he has ever had to be privy to, though his judgement might be clouded by the massive, pounding headache that is throbbing behind his temples. It feels like his brain is trying to quit and leave his skull by cracking a hole in it.

Still, he recognises the loathsome ringing as his phone and thus forces his eyes open to glare at the screen of the offending device that had at some point during the night apparently fallen from his trouser pocket to the floor.

The screen now has a crack running from top to bottom, because of course it does.

Izuna is calling him. Who else would it be but his little brother, consistent annoyance of Madara’s life since he was 3, terror of his teenage years and also the only direct family he has left? Groaning, Madara picks up before the call gets rejected.

“Morning, Brother!” comes a very chipper voice from the tinny speakers.

“Hurgghn,” he answers eloquently.

“Oh for God’s sake, you were still asleep? It’s almost 11 over there!” his brother immediately exclaims, making Madara seriously consider hanging up on him as his headache only intensifies.

“Went drinking ‘cause of contract signed, got drunk off my ass, am officially dead,” he explains, not at all whining the last part or anything.

“Aww, poor baby. Such suffering, truly a tragedy,” Izuna deadpans without any sympathy. Like he has room to talk, Madara distinctly remembers going to parties together during college and then awakening to his brother puking his guts out, which somehow still did not stop him from complaining.

“Well, I guess I know you’re alive now so I’ll just leave you to it. See ya on Monday, brother!” Izuna continues on when he does not reply, hanging up on him as soon as he grunts in response.

Madara lets the hand with his phone in it drop from his ear, letting his arm go slack until he lets go of the device and it drops back to the carpet. Then he puts himself to the mental task of remembering what went on last night.

He remembers going out to drink with his and the Senju Corp.’s team to celebrate the cooperation, remembers sitting down with them in a traditional style bar in a private room, remembers looking at Tobirama, relaxed without his suit jacket and with his shirt sleeves rolled up and deciding that tonight was a night to get drunk off his ass. Suffice to say, he is regretting that now, especially since he is pretty sure he acted like an idiot in front of the man.

After a certain point he only remembers snap shots of what happened. He thinks everybody but Tobirama and some other dude got wasted with him and that those two ended up having to get everybody home safely.

One at a time, they had corralled his coworkers and theirs out of the bar and into cabs, then Tobirama seems to have taken on him. He did not call Madara a cab, so he had probably stopped him from wasting the change? Anyways, he remembers being very close to the other, practically pressed to his side in an effort to keep him upright.

There is also an almost clear memory of looking up at Tobirama and Tobirama looking back. Or did he dream that moment. they cannot truly have stood there and stared at each other like idiots.

Things get really blurry after that. Tobirama must have walked him home like that, but all Madara recalls is being carefully manhandled and having that smooth voice in his ear, encouraging him through doors and up stairs and to take off his shoes and the feeling so serene, letting the other fully take control.

God, he must have looked so stupid, acting like a kid and letting himself be herded and tucked in and... did Tobirama pet him? Did that really happen or did his sleepy mind make that up?

Madara sighs and relaxes the pinched frown his face had settled into while trying to force his memory to become clearer. All he wants to do is curl up in his bed with his collar and nurse his pride for the rest of this already shitty day. Maybe he could pretend that Tobirama did not just take care of him out of necessity if he tries really hard.

Actually, that might just be what he will do today. It is a Saturday, he is expecting nobody to disturb him all day and he has no responsibilities to fulfil until Monday rolls around. Plans set, Madara starts with step one: get up.

It is a task greater than moving a mountain, but Madara manages. From there on he only visits the bathroom briefly to shower and use the loo before he moves to his room.

He lets himself fall on his bed, waits for the world to stop turning and then he grabs for the collar that is always in his bedside drawer, puts it on snugly and settles down to let his imaginings lull him back to sleep. Madara knows that he will probably feel guilty about this with further clarity, but for the time being he is glad to fall back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Tobirama’s morning is much better, though he too gets awoken by his overly enthusiastic brother. At 8am sharp his older sibling, the official owner of their company, which is quite influential and important might he add, comes barging into his flat, crying like a child because, as becomes clear over the next quarter of an hour, his wife Mito is mad at him for... actually Tobirama sort of tuned out at that point to get some coffee instead. Now with a hot mug of liquid life in his hand, he turns back to the problem at hand: Hashirama.

“Brother, we have had almost exactly this situation about 3 times already just this month. No, I don’t think she really is really angry with you. Yes, she absolutely is right and I think you should go and apologise. So please, for the love of God, get out of my apartment, buy her some flowers and chocolate and grovel a little and most important of all, leave me in peace.” He might normally have been slightly kinder about this, but memories of last night are still clear as day in his mind and he might be having just a bit of a bad day.

Hashirama sends him a kicked puppy look but shuffles back out again without bringing it up, able to tell that his brother is not in the mood for company today.

Tobirama takes a deep breath as the door closes behind him. He is already regretting being so sharp. As he drinks his coffee, he starts to feel his higher brain functions return and with them the images of Madara leaning on his shoulder, looking up at him in confusion when he stopped to stare, pouting on the bench he set him on to get his shoes off, huddling into the cushions of his couch.

The memory of feeling surprisingly soft, fluffy black hair beneath his hand creeps up on him. Oh God, he can only hope that Madara was too drunk to remember that. Hopefully he forgot the entire encounter, actually. Some of the encouragements Tobirama had mindlessly murmured the entire way were probably a little patronising to an adult man with a firm under his leadership.

He lets his breath hiss out through his teeth and settles on a kitchen chair.

Though, it had been Madara who had leant on him all the way to his flat door.

Not to mention that had followed every order, not complaining about being pushed around even once.

He had even looked surprisingly at peace throughout the entire ordeal. And maybe that, as well as the slight flush on his pale cheeks that had persisted for most of the journey, could be attributed to inebriation, but Tobirama had corralled his brother in a similar state before and he had been way less accommodating.

Strange.

He sets down the now empty coffee mug on his counter and moves to the bathroom where he finds his suit trousers that he had dropped there last night. When he picks them up, he hears a rattling. Frowning, as he was sure he had seen his keys on the bedside table, he searches the pockets and comes out with an unfamiliar key ring.

Shit, had he accidentally pocketed Madara’s keys? Just what he needed to come of the evening, now he will have to go and return them. He can’t even just put them in the post box, as the key for it seems to be on the ring as well. Damn it.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it. But first, he will have breakfast.

Tobirama takes his time with his shower and then waits a little before he dresses himself. Then he dawdles a little more, reasoning that Madara probably is not awake yet anyway, considering how drunk the man was last night.

It is almost lunch when he finally decides he cannot put it off anymore and leaves. He picks up food for two people on the way there, just in case Madara has not eaten yet. Just some sandwiches, nothing too complicated or exotic because the hangover might very well make the other man queasy. He might be getting a little overbearing, so he stops himself from doing anything more ridiculous, like picking up some fruit too for something fresh and healthy to add to the meal.

Overactive protective instincts reigned in, he walks the rest of the way from the sandwich place to Madara’s flat. Once there he considers ringing the bell of the apartment building, but since he is the one with the keys he just lets himself in and goes up the flights of stairs to Madara’s flat.

There he does ring the bell instead of intruding on the other any more. For a moment there is no movement, but after a beat he hears a door opening and shuffling steps coming closer. Madara, and it obviously is him from the curse that comes from the other side of the door, tries and fails to open the door.

Apparently, Tobirama had locked up last night. He has no memory of the action, but it must have been him, so he sticks the key in and awkwardly opens the door from the outside after ringing the bell. When it swings open, it reveals a crumpled Madara in sweatpants and a big teeshirt, wearing an honest to god collar, black and obviously well worn, openly around his slim neck. Tobirama gapes, apology stuck in his throat as his brain stutters for a few beats.

While he is busy trying to parse what he is seeing and his emotions on it, Madara is gearing up for a proper angry fit about why the hell Senju Tobirama took his keys. His mouth is already open, about to demand what is going on, when he realises that the other is intensely staring at his throat and he halfway has his hand raised to check what the issue is when he remembers.

He is still wearing his collar.

Madara can feel the blood rushing to his head. He must be red as a tomato, and immediately he curls up a little as if to protect himself. There is no way to hide it, though, and Tobirama is still staring, that shocked look in his eyes, and he must know, the collar is really obviously not a fashion statement of any kind, it was made for one purpose and one purpose only.

It is sturdy leather and there even is an O-ring at the front to fasten it to a leash or similar and Madara has treasured this collar for years as his only comfort and an expression of the way he feels, but in that moment he curses the fact that he ever bought it, that he ever got bold, just turned 18 and still unimportant enough that nobody cared what he did, and entered that little sex shop off the main street. The clerk had been very kind, he still remembers her telling him that he had good taste and he had been so happy, so excited to see himself in it that he had rushed home but now it has all come out and Madara clenches his eyes shut and waits for the shock, the disgust, that will inevitably come.

They stay frozen like that for a few seconds that feel like hours. Then-

“Uh, I... I accidentally pocketed your keys, I just wanted to return them, uh, you know, and, uh... I brought food? Wait, did I wake you up? How are you feeling? Did you drink some water? You need to hydrate, and eat something before you take some painkillers-” Tobirama is rambling. Tobirama does not ramble. Even in tenth grade when his teacher caught him trying to skip school he had been smooth and calm and had talked himself out of trouble. Yet here he is, completely thrown out of the loop.

Madara opens his eyes slowly and blinks at him owlishly while the other continues talking. He then steps aside to let the man in, because it seems as good a plan of action as any at this point. Tobirama hesitates a little, stalling in his barrage of words, then he brushes past Madara, toes off his shoes and strides down the hall. He hones in on the kitchenette that’s connected to the living room immediately, setting down a white plastic take out box on the counter and going on the hunt for plates. Madara follows him into the room and then just... stands there, watching the other man rummaging around and then setting out two sandwiches. The other man also gets out a glass which he fills with tap water before looking up at him imploringly.

He feels his blush, which had receded some in the last few minutes, return full force again as he immediately breaks eye contact, glancing back and forth between Tobirama and the floor. It gets him an amused raised eyebrow, before the man turns around to get out a second glass for himself.

“Go get yourself some painkillers, why won’t you?” he casually asks, with his back to him and his face thus hidden, and Madara feels himself instinctually obey. It makes alarm bells ring in his head, but he sees no point in refusing anymore. Not to mention, the headache really is unpleasant. He had sort of forgotten about his hangover, but now that he is properly awake and has calmed down a little it is back with a vengeance, pulsing right behind his forehead and making him want to perpetually frown.

When he returns with a bottle of pills, Tobirama has taken a seat on one of the high chairs at the counter. Madara feels less unsteady, the moment’s peace having helped him regain his footing a little. The other’s eyes snap to him as he approaches.

They consider each other for a beat, Madara scowling fiercely, before Tobirama sighs and breaks the eye contact again, gesturing to the other stool where the other plate is set up.

“Well, sit down. And stop looking at me like a petulant child, I won’t make a big deal of it if you don’t.”

Stunned, Madara does just that, once again left blinking at the other in a confused fashion.

“Excuse me?” he asks before he can stop himself. It is the first time he has actually spoken to the other today and his voice is raspy, so reaches for the glass of water and takes a gulp.

Tobirama gives him a look that Madara cannot interpret, then answers, “Discounting that I don’t feel like this,” and he motions to the collar, “is any of my business, it would be monumentally stupid to slander your reputation right now, after all we just signed a cooperation contract.”

“But...” Madara starts, floundering and starting to get angry at himself for being so easily thrown off today, “Wait, do you mean to tell me you just, what, don’t care at all?” Tobirama rolls his eyes in response and Madara feels his temper bubbling up, feeding on his humiliation and the headache still plaguing him. He is halfway out of his chair to start a proper fit when Tobirama shoots him a sharp gaze.

“Sit down and eat your food, Madara,” he tells him. He does not raise his voice, does not sound angry, but the commanding tone is still clear as day. Madara scowls but does as he was told, settling in and focusing on the sandwich in front of him instead of the mess of emotions he is feeling.

It’s surprisingly good.

He is dimly aware of Tobirama eating as well but he does not look up at him until he is halfway through his meal. There is no graceful way of eating with your hands and he does not fancy choking on his food because he accidentally held eye contact while stuffing his face. It has been known to happen and he really does not need the extra embarrassment today.

When he does risk a glance he catches Tobirama watching him. The other does not even give him the small victory of looking abashed, he just cocks that amused eyebrow again, and that really should not be that hot. He feels himself blush again and quickly looks back down, glaring at his food like it has mortally offended him.

“But seriously, how are you feeling? You were pretty wasted last night,” Tobirama suddenly asks and Madara will forever deny having jumped at his voice. He risks another glance and finds Tobirama frowning down at his own food, which he has somehow managed to almost finish already.

“I’m... fine, I guess,” he answers haltingly, dropping his gaze again. “I didn’t throw up or anything, just woke up an hour ago or so with a murder headache and my brother calling, the little prick.” He hears a quiet snort at that.

“Yeah, Hashirama woke me up, too. I swear, at this point you’d think that he could deal with his own relationship drama, they have been married for almost five years,” Tobirama comments with a fond expression, “But no, instead every time he inevitably does something stupid and Mito gets mad he comes crying to me.”

“Hashirama owns your company, doesn’t he? How come he can run an international enterprise but can’t apologise to his wife on his own?” Madara cannot help asking, because he has only ever met Tobirama’s brother once before, at the signing of the contract. He seemed plenty mature and serious there, but then again Madara knows that looks can be deceiving.

“Oh he manages the company fine, he’s just a fool when it comes to her. Mito has the patience of a saint, I swear.” His grin is small and wry but Madara can feel his insides get all gooey anyway and warm and curses his crush resurfacing at the worst times. Instead of answering and probably making a fool of himself he opts to finish his sandwich instead.

Silence settles around them, only broken by the sounds of them eating. Madara can feel his collar against his throat whenever he swallows, not quite constricting him but unquestionably there, and it brings him comfort even if this entire terrible situation is caused by it. They finish their food in silence. Afterwards, Tobirama gets up and puts their plates into the sink. Madara realises in this moment that he is in his own home, letting himself be waited on. He might be a bastard with a short temper but his mother did raise him right, so he clears his throat to get the other’s attention.

“I, uh-,” nice going there, “Just... Thanks, ok? For last night, getting me home, and for the food and everything too,” he finishes lamely, already regretting having ever opened his mouth. Tobirama looks amused again and Madara’s face is red all over and all he wants to do is curl up and die of embarassment.

He fidgets a bit, avoiding the other’s eyes and getting up from his stool, but Tobirama does not let him work himself up any more than that. He cuts him off with a look and nods at the bottle of painkillers instead. Madara gets the message and grumbles but swallows a pill with the leftover water anyway.

Tobirama starts moving while Madara is still in the motion of swallowing and moves around the counter towards the sitting area, with the couch Madara had slept on that night and some comfy armchairs facing it over a low coffee table.

He tracks the other with his eyes even as he sets down the glass, watching as he picks up the throw blanket that Madara had left pooled on the floor and folding it back over the back of the couch before settling down on it. He shoots Madara, who is once again standing around staring like an idiot, a look that tells him loud and clear that he is laughing at him. Then he gestures to the seat next to him. Madara bristles, even though he once again complies.

“What do you even want anymore, Senju?” he snaps while sitting down as far as possible from the other man. “Why are you here, anyway? I am an adult and can take care of myself, I don’t need you to do it for me.” No matter how much he would like that, he adds silently, because apparently he loves making himself suffer. Tobirama is still laughing at him with his eyes, the fucker.

“I must say, I find myself curious. Who collared you, Uchiha?” Tobirama asks, smirking and neatly circumventing actually answering any of the questions. Madara flinches and deflates, curling in on himself and raising a hand to his throat, touching the strip of leather on his skin.

“Er, well, nobody, really?” he murmurs, suddenly shy. “I bought this myself.” It sounds so pathetic, being desperate enough to do such a thing. He knows it is, knows it is weird that he pretends to be owned to get off, but it it is not like he can help himself.

Suddenly, Tobirama is in his space, scooting close and leaning over while holding himself steady with a hand on the cushions. He reaches out with the other to tip Madara's head back so he can look at the collar more closely and Madara’s breath catches on the inhale. The other man is very close and the point of contact at his chin is tingling. “What-,” he stutters breathlessly but does not get any farther.

“It does look quite fetching on you,” Tobirama says in a low voice that sends a shiver down Madara’s back. His blush has by now become a permanent fixture, apparently, because it has not receded within the last few minutes. He is also pretty sure that if Tobirama gets any closer he will spontaneously combust with how hard his heart is beating.

Then Tobirama lets go of his chin just to curl a finger through the ring at the front of the collar and tug and Madara gasps hard.

“I bet I could do better, though,” he hears the other say through the rush of blood in his ears. He is completely overwhelmed, unable to compute what is going on.

“I, What-” he stammers but is cut off by Tobirama, who leans down and, still lightly tugging on the collar, brings their lips together. Every thought process in Madara’s head grinds to a halt and he is pretty sure he makes a terribly embarrassing sound as he surges into the kiss. Tobirama just chuckles against his lips and Madara is pretty sure he just died because this cannot possibly be reality.

He spent the last two months wondering what it might be like to kiss Tobirama, to have him desire Madara as much as Madara does him and now that it seems like he might actually get what he wanted he can barely even comprehend it.

Tobirama lets go of the collar and presses his hand against Madara’s neck instead, gentling him as he pulls away.

“Easy,” he murmurs as Madara tries to follow him with wide eyes. He strokes up the pale throat so he can cup the other’s face instead. Madara is half kneeling on the couch now, having shifted to allow him better mobility, and he reaches out to grasp the wrist of the hand that is still petting him.

Madara's eyes never leave the his, searching them for his intentions. Tobirama decides it may be time to come clean.

“The first time I saw you, I was shocked how attracted I was to you. I usually go for the more submissive type in partners, have always liked to be in control in any romantic or sexual relationship I had, but you seemed like the direct opposite of that theme. Always so proud, so confrontational,” he muses, tracking his thumb over the other’s cheek with his eyes. “All that wildness, and it only made me want to tame you more.”

At that Madara drops his eyes, the image too much for him to directly look at the other. He unconsciously bites his lip, mind wandering, but then Tobirama drops his hand from his face to take the one holding its wrist. As he watches their fingers tangle, he sighed deeply.

“We’ll have to properly talk about this sometime soon, but maybe not now. I’d just like you to know that I think we... could be good.” He glances away, becoming a little shy now that the intense moment has passed. Madara notices, feeling a smirk tug at his lips.

“Done steamrolling over me for now, huh?” He cannot help himself but ask, teasing. Tobirama snorts, squeezing his hand.

“I would like that, though,” he admits quietly, looking at their joined hands. “I’ve never had anyone to do this sort of thing with, though. I’m not a virgin or anything! Just... never trusted anyone with...,” he trailed off huffily. Tobirama let go of his hand to reach over and ruffle his hair. Madara squawks ungracefully, blush intensifying.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow. I want to take proper care of you, after all," Tobirama assures with grin.

They end up talking about their families until the painkillers set in and start making Madara sleepy. He ends up falling asleep on the couch again, this time pillowed on Tobirama's thigh as the other strokes his hair. He sleeps very well, even if the position was awkward at first.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can take it all,” Tobirama’s deep drawl sends a shiver over down Madara’s spine. With a whimper he sinks down another inch on the dildo he is kneeling over. It is massive, solid black silicone and stuck to the ground with a suction cup. It fills him up like nothing else ever has before, stretching him almost too much. He cannot help but shift around a little, a needy whine escaping him as it changes the angle and puts more pressure on his prostate.

“Good job, just a little more now,” Tobirama praises from where he is sitting on the bed about a meter away, looking down over his crossed legs with an expression of detached amusement. The intensity of his gaze gives him away, though, as he takes in every twitch of the other man’s body.

Madara’s cock is weeping by now, they have been at it for quite some time and all he wants is to cum and be done with it, even as he never wants it to stop at the same time. It is of no consequence, however, as his hands are expertly tied behind his back. All he can do was slide himself gradually down the large cock up his ass while Tobirama watches and gives orders. It is the sweetest torture.

After a beat, Madara takes a deep breath and slowly but resolutely sinks down that last inch or so of the dildo. When his ass finally hits the base he releases the breath with a shudder, slumping forward in relief.

God, he is so full, it feels like he is being hollowed out. Madara squirms a little, trying to get used to the feeling. His thighs are shaking a little from holding him up for such a long time.

There is a faint rustle and the shift of cloth and then Tobirama is standing in front of him, taking his chin in hand and tilting his head to make him look up at him. Madara is reminded on that day, on the couch, right before Tobirama had first kissed him. This time, though, the other man is standing tall over him and Madara has to strain his neck a little to manage it from his position at his feet. Tobirama runs his thumb over his cheek and then his bottom lip, pushing the pad inside his mouth. Madara’s tongue flicks out to lick it and the other smiles a little, fond.

“You took it so well, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you,” he says softly and Madara cannot help but preen a little, even as he whines a little to let Tobirama know how desperate he is.

“What’s that? What do you want, dear?” the other asks him, taking his hand away to let Madara speak.

“Please- ngh, may I... May I suck your cock, please, Sir?” he gets out, stopped by a grunt as his embarrassed squirming pushes the dildo impossibly deeper inside. The hand comes back, this time petting his hair. It soothes the humiliation of asking, no, practically begging for such a thing a little.

“There you go, such a good pet, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Tobirama praises, still remembering how Madara used to flush and flail and stammer whenever tasked with asking for what he wanted. He is getting more used to it, but Tobirama cannot help but hope that he will ever become desensitised enough to stop producing a fetching blush whenever he does it.

“Well, why don’t you just get what you want, huh, sweetheart?” he urges, not able to suppress his chuckle when Madara splutters, looking at him with a pout that is way too adorable for an adult man and owner of an international firm.

When it becomes clear that he will not get his reward without working for it, Madara grudgingly leans forward and sets his teeth on Tobirama’s zipper to carefully pull it down. When he gets it open he nuzzles at the slit, whining high and pitifull at the other. He has already discovered that no amount of trying will let him open the button without his hands.

“Aw, come now, I’ll help you, ok?”, Tobirama reaches down to undo his trousers the rest of the way and pulls out his cock. Some other nights he would have let Madara suffer a little longer, teasing him until he was properly begging, but watching the other take that enormous cock was too arousing and took too long for him to have much patience left himself.

Instantly, Madara is on him, taking the tip in his mouth and suckling at it skilfully. They had discovered in their early scenes that he really gets off on sucking cock. He cannot quite come from the experience alone but is usually completely satisfied just humping Tobirama’s leg a little. Still, tonight he had already made the other stretch himself out on the bed and then tied him up to keep him from touching his cock while he made him get comfortable with their new toy. It would be a shame to waste all that effort.

“Come on, dear, fuck yourself on that huge cock you’ve got up your arse while you suck me off like the slut you are,” Tobirama demands, voice deep with pleasure already. Madara has so far been fully focused on working his cock as far down his throat as he could get it. He has almost gotten all the way to the base already, having had plenty of practice deepthroating since they entered this relationship a good half a year ago. His gag reflex was still fully formed when they had first tried this but Madara had been so enthusiastic about it that it was one of the first things they started training him on.

Madara's thighs have mostly stopped shaking by now so he carefully lifts himself up a little and lets himself drop back down. He cannot stop a small moan from leaving his mouth. It just feels so full, and the pull and push against his walls is nothing short of incredible. Emboldened, he raises himself a little higher the next time. He feels the slightly flared tip of the dildo press against his prostate unexpectledy and his legs give out on him, making him fall back down onto his ass with an undignified squeak, pushing the cock back in in a sharp thrust. He quickly takes his mouth off of Tobirama’s cock, leaning his head against the other’s hip and panting hard.

“You ok, pet?” the other man asks, a worried frown marring his face as his sub leans his body against him.

“Fi- fine, sir,” the other answers breathily. Tobirama just hums, stepping around the other and crouching down to untie his hands. The knots come out easily underneath the skilled fingers and he rubs the wrists gently to help with circulation before putting them down so Madara can support himself better.

“No touching yourself, alright, darling?” he orders, catching Madara’s eyes over his shoulder. He gets a hurried nod in response.

Tobirama gets up and walks back around, taking a hold of Madara’s hair at the top of his head to lead his mouth back onto his cock. The other’s hands instinctually come up to steady himself on his thighs as he leans forwards with the movement to nuzzle at it.

“Such a sweet pet,” he praised lowly while his hard prick is once again taken into sweet, warm pleasure. Madara, now steadier with his hands free, gets to work properly, bobbing on Tobirama’s cock while slowly picking up a rhythm with his hips. It does not take long until both of them are moaning steadily.

Tobirama’s hand tightens in Madara’s hair, pulling on it a little, and he moans loudly around the other. When the man looks down at his partner, his eyes are hazy with pleasure. He is getting sloppy with his mouth, as well, obviously distracted with the pleasure he is giving himself.

“You ok if I fuck your face, sweetheart?” he asks, putting his other hand on the other’s head as well to get more leverage. Madara just hums in agreement and stills his own movements, holding as still as possible while he is still bouncing up and down.

Tobirama looks down at the sight before him for a moment before he returns to his own pleasure. Madara is looking absolutely debauched, his face sloppy with drool and red, red lips, expression blissed out. His hair open and messy, drooling cock red against his pale stomach.

It bobs up and down on every stroke, dripping precum on the floor. Tobirama groans, one hand gliding down to cup Madara’s jaw before he pushes back in, bottoming out in the other’s throat. The other swallows around him while holding his gaze and it is all he can do not to cum on the spot.

This will not last much longer, Madara is already getting frantic in his thrusts as he grinds on the dildo, so Tobirama does not try to draw it out too much. He pulls out and pushes back in sharply, grunting and building an unforgiving rhythm. His hands are clenched in Madara’s hair, pulling harshly, but the other still keeps himself as relaxed as possible even as he keeps moaning around his cock, obviously getting close.

Madara’s mind is blank, foggy with pleasure and lack of oxygen that just feeds his desperation. He pushes himself high off the ground every time he lifts himself up, letting the tip of the dildo hit his prostate on every stroke and it is driving him crazy. He is getting close, he knows, but he could not communicate it to his dom if he thought to, as the other is too busy choking him on his cock. Suddenly, the other stills in pounding his face.

“Open up,” he growls, and Madara obediently stills and sticks out his tongue, opening his mouth wide.

Tobirama strokes himself a few times before he groans sharply and cums into Madara’s mouth and all over his face. The only thing saving him from washing cum out of his hair later is that Tobirama is still holding it back with the other hand, though much gentler now. Tobirama strokes one last time from base to tip to get out the last drops and Madara closes his mouth and swallows.

He feels the viscous substance slide down his throat and whines, grinding down, still chasing his own orgasm. Tobirama falls onto his knees in front of him, reaching for him.

Madara almost thinks he is going to touch his so far completely untouched cock but the hand bypasses it and reaches for butt instead, hands gripping where it meets his thighs to guide him. He makes him pull almost all the way off the cock up his arse and then drops him down mercilessly and it punches all the air out of his body.

His cock jumps, spilling precum ceaselessly, and a wretched sound leaves his mouth as he balls his fists on the other’s shoulders. Tobirama does not stop, though, just lifts him again without stopping and lets him drop down again and it is all it takes for Madara to climax, cum landing in splatters all over the floor as well as Tobirama’s clothes.

It lasts so long it feels like forever and when he comes back to himself he is clutching at Tobirama, who has shifted his arms so that he is holding him up against his own body. He is also murmuring sweet nothings into Madara’s hair and getting even more semen on his shirt and trousers, which will hopefully wash out. Still, neither of them can be bothered to move for a few long moments.

Then Tobirama shifts, carefully helping Madara pull off of the dildo. He whines high as it slides out, oversensitive and uncomfortable now that the arousal has worn off. They get him sitting on the edge of the bed while Tobirama gets up to bring over a washcloth from the bathroom, returning to wipe off both Madara’s face and body as well as the floor.

He leaves the dildo where it is for now, instead returning to his partner’s side after taking off his shirt and trousers. Those end up in a neatly folded pile in the laundry basket.

When he takes the other man back into his arms Madara snuggles up to him, sleepy and satisfied. Tobirama maneuvers them further onto the bed and under the covers.

To Madara, everything is fuzzy, warm and comfortable. He trusts Tobirama to take care of everything that may come up in the next few hours. After all they have been settled in this relationship for a while now and he is happier than he has ever been before. They are keeping it under covers, but that suits both of them fine as they are private people anyway. This is good, Tobirama is good, and even if their relationship came to be through slightly unusual circumstances, even though it continues to be a little unusual, he could not care less.

Madara falls asleep in no time at all while a gentle hand strokes his hair.


End file.
